


Sleep Will Follow

by GrimHeaperr



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, He's looking at Keith, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, No Beta, Past Curtis/Shiro (Voltron), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slice of Life, domestic sheith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 20:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19341700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimHeaperr/pseuds/GrimHeaperr
Summary: Keith returns to the Atlas after a mission.





	Sleep Will Follow

**Author's Note:**

> Tardy to the Sheith anniversary party (The Black Paladins, "He's Looking at Keith").

Keith’s footsteps reverberated down the empty halls of the Atlas, the ship’s familiar welcoming thrum accompanying him on his long walk. His shoulders ached and his ankle throbbed from his latest mission. The Blades of Mamora have yet to find the last of Sendak’s sympathizers, but an attack on a recently liberated planet left the Blades busy with gathering intel and capturing leaders from the Fire of Purification. The ordeal left Keith with two whip-like burns from a particularly violent alien. The chase caused him to slip a few feet off a rocky ledge.

Keith sighed.

He approached the door to his suite on the Atlas and placed a gloved hand on a depression beside the door. A white-blue light scanned his hand and the door hissed open. He felt the Atlas vibrate beneath his shoes.

Shiro was at the end of the long dining table, an orange holographic screen before him as papers cluttered the area in front of him. His glasses were perched at the edge of his nose, eyes narrowed and forehead wrinkled as he read through documents. Shiro’s hair was pushed back as if fingers had been running through it for hours.

Keith slid his shoes off before wrapping his arms around his husband. Shiro leaned back into the chair, resting his head against Keith’s torso. Keith bent over to kiss Shiro’s forehead.

“Long day?” Shiro asked, his voice cutting through the thrum from the Atlas.

“Something like that,” Keith answered. “You too?”

Shiro offered him a tired smile, the edges of his mouth not quite reaching his eyes. The man sighed with his chest. “Something like that.”

Keith laughed weakly. Keith used a hand to wipe Shiro’s hair back, his forelock long from weeks without a trim. “I’ll see you in bed soon?” Shiro hummed in response. Keith kissed Shiro’s forehead one more time before leaving the man to his work.

Keith walked the short distance to their bedroom to the joined master bathroom. He fought through his soreness to pull off his sash and step out of his armor and under clothes. In the mirror, he could see the vibrant red that slashed down his shoulder blades from the alien’s tail. Small bruises began to form where the alien’s blunt tail ridges hit Keith. He ignored them and untangled his hair from his braid.

The hot spray of the shower relaxed Keith. Steam wisped from his body as he worked shampoo through his hair. Through the fogged glass of the shower stall, Keith could see Shiro’s strong silhouette undress, his Altean arm standing on the marble sink before the man himself stepped into the shower.

Shiro kissed Keith in greeting. Keith could see Shiro’s eyebrows knead together at the sight of his injury but the man said nothing. Keith washed his body as Shiro’s hand began to dig into Keith’s back, blunt, calloused fingers massaging into the tense muscle around the injury. Keith gritted his teeth and hissed when it hurt too much. Shiro leaned toward Keith and kissed the nape of his neck.

Shiro doesn’t have to say it but he does every time. “Sorry.” And Keith will always answer back that it’s okay. They’ve been married for six years now, three loss to Shiro’s first marriage and Keith’s work with the Mamora. In those years, Keith and Shiro conversed through coded emails and messages. At first, it was strictly business: documents and reports about undiscovered or liberated planets, how humanity was rebuilding the earth, updates about their friends. Later, it was photos and video calls and laughs that echoed in empty rooms. Then, Keith disappeared for three months, lost in space until a Mamora scout discovered his spacecraft with a barely-alive Keith. Keith had no memories from that time, and the logs of his ship were wiped. Keith never talked about it, but when Keith returned to Earth in a pod, body thin and face grey, Shiro thought long and hard about what type of love he had for Keith.

Keith helped Shiro wash his body, the suds covering them. Shiro flicked soap at Keith, causing the shorter man to huff out a laugh and cup his hands, splashing water at Shiro. They stayed together under the spray until their fingers pruned. After they were dried, dressed, and Keith’s hair back in its long braid, the two slipped under the thick covers of their bed.

The pale moonlight that filtered through their windows illuminated their spacious bedroom. The mirror on their dresser reflected their bodies moving to crawl into bed. Keith draped his body on half of Shiro’s, Keith’s tender back facing the ceiling as Shiro wrapped his left arm around Keith’s waist before using his Altean arm to cover them with the duvet.

“How was your mission?”  _How did you get hurt?_  Keith translated.

Keith shifted, his shoulders aching no matter where he put his arms. Shiro pressed circles into Keith’s lower back muscles. “Messy,” Keith started vaguely. “We got a distress signal from Zadus 0JL and found a few of Sendak’s sympathizers.” Keith felt Shiro tense, the man’s shoulders tightening underneath his head. Keith kissed Shiro’s chest. “We captured two of the aliens involved in the attack. One submitted. The other didn’t.” Shiro hummed thoughtfully.

“Did you find out any information?”

“Yeah. After Sendak’s death, the Fire of Purification was left in shambles. Infighting depleted their numbers, and those left were trying to pick up where Sendak left off. Kolivan and Krolia are continuing the interrogation.”

Keith felt Shiro’s head move but refused to meet the man’s steely gaze. “Kolivan decided to relieve me until I was ‘better.’” Keith huffed. He had a mild concussion from the fight and hobbled on his feet, but he was fine.

“Keith.”

“I’m fine.”

“Keith.”

Keith ignored him. “Don’t act like you’re any better, Shirogane.”

Shiro chuckled airly. “You got me there… Shirogane.”  Keith felt his face heat up and knew if the light hit him, Shiro could see the splotchy blush dusting Keith’s cheeks and neck. Keith flicked Shiro’s nose. Shiro kissed the top of Keith’s head in response. “Let’s not worry them, then.”

Shiro began to run the fat of his fingers up and down Keith’s back. Keith felt his body sag at the soothing touch. He felt the tendrils of unconsciousness creep up on him, the edges of his vision going dark before he plummeted into sleep.

When Keith closed his eyes, he could see the stars and nebulas of space, bright and inviting. He felt his body move forward, the rumble of his ship protesting. He heard the low, hollow laugh of a man long dead, then the shrill cackle of a witch that ripped his thoughts apart. Keith clutched his head and soon the ship’s hull blinked in an alarming red before the screen turned black. Keith felt his head slam into the back of his pilot’s seat before the ship jerked left, the momentum flinging Keith off the seat and to the right. His body hit the console with a painful jab to his ribs before his body went limp. He felt claws tangle into his hair and dig—

“Baby,” a voice said. “Baby."

Keith jolted awake, head spinning as he sat up. Shiro gently laced their fingers together as Keith used his other hand to hold his head. HIs shoulder burned and his head throbbed. He was barely aware of the dull pain in his ankle.

“Sorry,” Keith croaked out. Shiro pulled Keith into his chest. Keith focused on the sound of Shiro’s heartbeat, _thump… thump… thump…,_  before the rhythm pulled Keith’s ragged breathing back to its normal cadence. Keith dug the heel of his hand into his eyes until he could see red, orange, and purple from the pressure.

He tried to remember what he dreamed about, but like every nightmare, Keith never remembered. Shiro would always tell him about his nightmares, years spent on whispered reassurances: “I’m okay”’s and “We’re okay”’s. But with Keith, Shiro would help him even his breaths, guide him back down to bed, and position them until Shiro’s body wrapped and curled around Keith’s own like Shiro could protect him from the phantoms Keith never remembered, never saw, never conquered.

Keith let himself grow smaller under Shiro’s strong arms. He let his being meld with the mattress as he blinked tears away. Shiro hummed a lullaby his grandfather would sing to him after nightmares, the same one Keith knew by heart from their days as the Red and Black Paladins. Keith focused on the vibrations in Shiro’s chest, the soft sound of his hums, and the ever-present warmth of the Atlas. The comfort of his husband and his home lulled Keith back to sleep. No nightmares, no dreams.


End file.
